Orc Girl
by solarlunarxiii
Summary: Urzul has unmatched strength, but is often lost in her own thought. She lives on the border of poverty, outside of wealth. Her family history is filled with holes and scars she has no control over. She has little to even live for- until she hears of the Arena. Putting her own life on the line, Urzul may have finally found a place she can pretend to call home... but for how long?
1. Chapter 1: Fish

**Chapter 1**: Fish

One by one the pile of squirming and hissing Slaughterfish grew on the dry, sandy shore of Niben Bay. Using only a fraction of her strength, Urzul grabbed the hungry snappers by their tails and flung them meters away, where they fell flat on the sand and went silent. Urzul's pants were rolled up to her knees and drenched in the cold lake water from all the Slaughterfishs' resentful splashing. Her entire body had splashes of water, from the rolled up sleeves of her suspender shirt to her short black hair tied up in a bun.

Every time she flung the nasty vermin out of the water, she let out a hefty grunt that always made the aristocratic Imperials taking walks on the beach turn their heads—sometimes they even ran away. But, Urzul didn't care. She learned at a very young age that her green skin and beastly under bite was always going to repel people away from her. Her mother used to always remind her, "Urzul, you're never going to make friends if you wait for people to talk to you first."

Urzul didn't have any friends.

The Slaughterfish came to bite at Urzul's feet on their own accord. It was in their blood. As long as she stood strong in a sentinel stance, the fish would be choking for air and flopping on the sand before she even got a scratch. She had just the perfect amount of strength and agility it took to fish. She was like a bear—but Urzul used to watch bears, and they didn't do as well of a job.

Another one came—Urzul could see the shadow if it's scaly body lurking through the shallows like a mountain lion of the sea. Urzul pitied them in these final moments; they always looked so sure of themselves. They were _going _to get their prey, and soon, Urzul was _going _to be without a limb. But that was never the case. It was almost mean of the divines to create a creature with such confidence, but little to no backbone.

Urzul kept her eyes fixed on the Slaughterfish's head. As soon as it entered Urzul's range of motion, she thrust her upper body forward and snatched the beast out of the water without a single mistake made. It flapped around for a few seconds, desperate to return home, but before Urzul could have a second of sympathy she had already launched it behind her like she was throwing a sports ball, and the Slaughterfish was dead. Easy.

Stood up from her hunched stance in the water to stretch her back and wipe the sweat off of her face from the beating sun. She took note of where the shadow was on the mountain side; it was the middle of the afternoon. The buying merchant would be making his rounds in Weye soon.

Weye was the 'village' Urzul was supposed to call home. '_Supposed' _to, because Urzul didn't think having only two houses and a homeless man living in a tent under a tree counted as a village. But apparently the folks in the Imperial City do—that or they just feel bad for staring over the settlement like an overbearing parent.

Despite all of this, Urzul still liked where she lived, but less the exact location and more the vicinity. If anybody asked Urzul where she lived, she'd tell them she lived in the Imperial City, because Weye was attached to it, almost like a parasite. But across the bridge was Urzul's favorite place in the entire world. Every time she looked at the White Gold tower that reached high in the sky, she smiled at the grand magnificence. Inside the city walls it was all lavished in marble and brick, it smelt of fresh cooked meals, and the people wore silk dresses and gleaming sapphire necklaces. It was a place build for the divines. Even though she didn't live there, sometimes when she sat in bed at night, she liked to pretend like she did.

Thinking and daydreaming was the only thing Urzul really had to do for fun. Chasing and grabbing Slaughterfish by the neck and tossing them out of the Niben used to be fun when she was younger, but now it was just a chore, and Urzul had a few bites on her wrist that would probably scar and never heal. She took these fish to the merchant buyer every other day so she and her father could make a living, and that was it. One time she sold the merchant a dead fawn she found behind her house, and occasionally the merchant will ask for some mudcrabs, but that business has been going south for a long time now. Basically, her survival rested in the hands of the wealthy folk in the Imperial City ordering grilled fish at their fancy dinners. This used to bother Urzul, but now she was just bored.

The pile of fish was up to 10, which Urzul usually called enough unless it was a good day. Today wasn't a good day. She trekked barefoot out of the shallow lake, her toes kneeing into the sticky mud from down below. She plopped herself down on the dry dirt next to the pile of dead eels to catch her breath and relax for the few seconds she had. She didn't take very long breaks, knowing she still had to get the wheelbarrow from around the house and piled all the fish one by one onto the cart just in time for the merchant to come by.

It didn't take long for Urzul to spring up off the ground and do just that. She had a determined mind, when something needed to be done, Urzul did it. Within 2 minutes she had all of her Slaughterfish sitting dead inside the worn out wheelbarrow and was carrying it around the bay to her home. She lived unfairly close to her usual fishing spot, sometimes she wanted to take the long way so she could have more time to herself. Today wasn't that day.

It was around this time that Urzul set aside one of the fish she caught to eat for herself, but she wanted the coin more than she wanted the food. They didn't have much else inside the house, but that wasn't anything new. Urzul usually had one or two meals a day, whatever it took to _not_ feel hungry. Sometimes it was a whole fish, most of the time it was several pieces of fruit. Pears were her favorite.

Once she arrived home, all she had to do was wait. She thought, maybe, this time could have been used to snag a few more fish, but it was always best leaving the buyers coming back for more.

She sat on a lonesome barrel that was right outside the door to the cottage she lived in. The only ones there were her and her father. The other house, the one that makes this worthless settlement a "village", was right across the dirty road. The only person who lived there was a cranky old woman named Astrid who only came out of her house to go grocery shopping. Sometimes she wouldn't even do that, and a delivery cart would arrive by her door and give her an assortment of goods. Urzul noticed they both liked pears.

This wasn't the only place Urzul called home—up until she was 16, Urzul lived in a disgusting run-down swamp, also known as the city of Bravil. The people there were nasty, the drinking water always tasted like moss, and the only people that would bother visiting that dump were associates of the Mage's Guild and thieves who weren't skilled enough to heist Leyawiin. There was nothing but bad memories of bullying, name calling from the ignorant off the street, and when she was 10, she watched her mother leave her life forever. Bravil was hell on Nirn, but sometimes, Urzul missed it.

For 5 years Urzul has been tossing fish and eating pears off of the trees of Imperial-claimed utopia. Now she was 21. Sometimes Urzul thought to herself which period of her life has been better, but could never come up with a cohesive answer because nothing in her life has ever been "good". The question is always "which was less bad?", and Urzul didn't care to answer.

The merchant was here now. She didn't see him, but the sound of his large obnoxious cart could be heard from every corner of Cyrodiil. Eventually the little man's shadow became visible on the long marble bridge that connected the elites of the Imperial City with the commoners of Weye. This merchant lived a double life; Urzul wondered what he thought about White Gold Tower. Was it a miracle? Was it a neighbor?

Urzul got off of her uncomfortable barrel to meet him at the end of the bridge like she always did. She carried the fishy Wheelbarrow across the dirt and eventually they both made awkward eye contact. Urzul had been meeting and selling with this man for 5 years—she didn't know his name. She didn't ask.

The man made a familiar nod and let the hefty weigh of the cart handles off of his tiny shoulder. He was a bosmer with a haircut that didn't really suit him, and the pointy shoes that he wore made him look like a forest nymph. Urzul felt self-conscious about the height differences, since she stretched a considerable way above his head, and felt bad they both had to crank their necks in either direction in order to look at each other. One positive thing she thought, though, was he sure had confidence.

"So then," he said to Urzul without wasting time, "How many?"

Urzul turned around to look at her wheelbarrow, even though she already knew the answer. "10."

"10? Again?"

Urzul didn't respond.

"I know you have more than _10 _in you. Look at your shoulders. You could give me at least 20, probably 30."

Urzul remained silent, and just shrugged her shoulders.

The bosmer man let out a frustrated scoff and waved his hand rudely, "Eh, whatever. You Orcs. I'll give you 40 for the 10."

Urzul's eyebrow arched as the bosmer looked at her with his beady little eyes. She didn't make any movements. "…Just 40?"

"You're going to complain? 35."

"I just caught these."

"25 gold. You're lucky I come here at all you know, there's plenty of fishers at the Waterfront that could give me ten times your supply." He remarked, before putting on a false smile, "But I'm a nice guy. I like to support small businesses. So put your head down, _Orc Girl_, and take the gold before you have to throw those fish back in the bay."

Urzul remained expressionless and didn't make any attempts to acknowledge the bosmer's rude remarks. She did what he said, and loaded all the fish into his cart.

The bosmer put the gold into Urzul's hand and sarcastically smirked, "I appreciate your business" before picking up his cart and heading back into town. Urzul looked down at her hand—she only had 20 gold.

This would be enough to a week's supply of pears, which was fine, but Urzul knew her father would just gamble it all away so she was going to keep a close eye on the pear tree.

And to speak of the devil, right after the Merchant was across the bridge, Urzul was startled by a grumbling voice that yelled "URZUL!", that made the black hairs on the back of her head stand up.

Urzul turned around at her own pace, because it was just her father. He was motioning for her to hurry inside the house. Urzul knew why.

She walked towards the house and her father began to get anxious. His pale green skin, which didn't match hers, was wet from the sweat and his oily hair was slicked all the way back, probably from all of his stress. Pay day was the only way to get him feeling normal for a few hours.

"Well? Well? How much did we get?" He said hastily the closer Urzul got to the front door.

Urzul didn't answer until she was all the way there, "20."

"20?! That's it?! How many did you catch?"

"10."

"_Dammit _Urzul. Why can't you be a better haggler?"

Urzul just kept walking past her distraught father and into the house, where it wasn't any hotter or cooler. The downstairs was just a sad worn out kitchen, and of course the large round table Urzul's father used to host his card gambling nights. She didn't like the downstairs, but she didn't stay there anyway.

Urzul's father came back inside and shut the front door. "Alright, fine, 20 is fine." He said in an anxious tone, "I-I'll just cut back tonight. And I'll come out with 60!"

Urzul didn't care, "I'm still keeping my 5."

When Urzul turned 18, she made a deal with her father that she'd always get a fraction of the pay. This promise was hardly ever honored, but Urzul always tried.

"Your 5?! Oh, Urzul, my darling my love, Daddy can't afford to let you have that right now, okay?"

"Stop talking to me like that." She ordered. That tone irked her to no end.

"You're not keeping your pay. Now give me the gold."

Once again, without fighting back or disobeying, Urzul gave her father 20 gold.

"Thank you." He said, the tone of relief seeping through his pores and drowning the subtext of his voice. "Don't worry, Urzul, by the end of tonight I'm going to get you more than 5 gold—20! 30!"

Urzul didn't believe him. She never did. After every pay day, unless they were biting their resources down to the nail, Bogrum gro-Bogrum the proud father of Urzul would gamble away their entire pay until two days passed and Urzul made more. Today was Loredas, and all of his friends would be coming over as soon as the sun set to gamble the night away, lying to their wives about overtime at work—if they even had any to being with.

Urzul didn't want anything to do with it. The men who gambled with her father were vile, dirty, and they tended to cheat even though her father didn't have a deceiving bone in this body. They always took advantage of his hospitality and generosity and hardly ever let him win. He did win once, even doubled their income, but they took it all back from him at their next game. They did this often so he wouldn't quit the game.

So, she left the house for the evening. She could go up to her room, but she wasn't up to it. She preferred a walk down by the Niben to anything else in the world right now.

"Where are you off to, darlin'?" Her father asked when she creaked the door open.

Urzul didn't respond.

The route for her evening walks usually stretched around the isolated beaches overlooking the Imperial City, through the woods, and then back home. Tonight, she decided just stay on the beach. The sun was setting, and Urzul enjoyed the colors that reflected on the water during this time of day. She liked the feeling of her bare feet on the soft sand. It wasn't warm at this time of day, but it was still nice. One time while fish, Urzul heard a little elf girl complain to her mother that she hated getting beach sand in her sandals. That was one of Urzul's favorite feelings in the world.

It bothered Urzul that nobody else in the vicinity came to watch the sunset on the beach. Was Astrid too cranky and depressed to even look out her window? Were the Imperials too busy eating fish? Urzul found it hard to keep away from things that radiated with natural beauty. The sunset, the White Gold Tower, or even the Slaughterfish that jumped out of the water while hunting prey. If Urzul was lucky, sometimes she'd get a view of all three.

Just as the day was reaching night, Urzul could hear the scrapping of a mudcrab pinching its claws at Urzul. Even though it was hard to see, Urzul could tell exactly where he was just by the movement of sound, and she put all of her strength into a forward kick that sent the little beats flying so far away that Urzul couldn't hear the splash it made back in the water. It made her feet sting, but she'd get over it.

During reflective moments like these on her walks, Urzul often wondered what life would be like on the other side, inside the walls and living among the wealthy. Would she enjoy it? Or, would she hate it? Though she wanted success, she didn't want the social expectations that came along with it. People in higher power usually had to be mean. Even emperor Uriel, as benevolent as he's made out to be, must have moments where he uses his power to order extra fish at dinner. Sometimes Urzul wondered if he ever ate fish that _she _caught.

It was almost as if Urzul didn't really have a place anywhere in the world. Weye was beneath her, the White Gold Tower is above her, where should she go? Perhaps it would be best if she set up a tent on the marble bridge. She wished, maybe, she could have some sort of higher responsibility. She was strong, maybe she could be a bodyguard. Maybe the Blades were hiring. Or, alternatively, she could leave Cyrodiil and move to Skyrim where she could join an Orc Stronghold and slave away at a smelter making ingots and selling them to the Nords. Maybe they'd give her at least 40 gold for it.

But at the end of the day, there wasn't any other option for her staying put in Weye and taking her walks around the Niben bay like she was now. She _could _leave but, she knew she'd miss the cold breeze that grazed over the waterfront with every wave and hit with Urzul with a sprinkle that evaporated off her green skin in seconds. But it was those few seconds that reminded Urzul…maybe she should ride it out a little bit longer.

Her walk soon came to an end and she was home once again. It was pitch black outside by the time she opened up the front door, and she heard the envious laughter coming from half a dozen men sweating around a card table. They were Imperials, Nords, one Dark Elf, but not Orcs.

A few people turned to Urzul when she came through the front door but she didn't look at any of them. She headed for the stairs, but not without hearing their drunken ramblings.

"—Hey Bogrum, why don't you ante up night with your daughter eh?"

Everybody laughed. Urzul's father even let out a nervous wheeze.

"She doesn't talk much but I bet she'd roar like a bear after a night with _me_."

Bogrum gro-Bogrum, the loving father, went along with the laughter. "Now, now, fellas—I still haven't played my hand yet."

"Oh shove it, Bogrum, you're screwed no matter what you play— unless that bulldog daughter of yours comes down here and makes your drunken ass fold."

The men continued to laugh.

Urzul went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Adoring Fans

Chapter 2: **Adoring Fans**

There was an unruly commotion outside going on that woke Urzul up the next morning, something that didn't happen in Weye. The only reason to peek your head out the window was if somebody was wondering around drunk spouting nonsense about the nine divines beating them at chess—_that _happened often. But this wasn't one person, it was several. And they were very loud.

Urzul got up from her uncomfortable mattress and looked outside. There was an Orc man in full silver and shimmering armor walking out of the Imperial City, being trailed by a large horde of people holding paper and quill. Some of them were calm, but most looked like they wanted to unleash a roaring cry of excitement. Urzul opened her window.

"—Sir! Agronak! We're your biggest fans!"

"—Can we have your autograph, pleeeaassee?!"

This man they were trailing behind wasn't turning around for them, but Urzul could make out a very satisfactory smile across his face. He was a very pale skinned Orc in an obnoxious suit of armor. He had a large sword and shield attacked to his waist, and he was even holding a flashy iron helmet that had a huge red feather coming off the top.

"—AGRONAK! PLEEEASSE!"

Fans resorted to screaming and whining. Why wasn't this guy acknowledging him? Was he deaf? Was he just rude?

He finally turned around and put both of his hands in the air, "Now, now, everybody. The Grey Prince has to leave the city for a little while, but I'll be back as soon!"

The Grey Prince? That was the stupidest most over the top name Urzul had ever heard. What's wrong with Agronak?

"Can we have your autograph before you go? Where are you going? Take me with you!" were incoherent screams coming from the crowd. Urzul was surprised they weren't all swarming him like a mad posse. Maybe it was because of the sword. Urzul just continued watched from her 2nd story bedroom.

Agronak clapped his hands together three times and the entire crowd went silent. It was quite odd, and a bit creepy. "Alright, everybody, I have an announcement. The Blue Team is now recruiting at the Imperial City's Arena! True, we suffered a hard blow this season, but that's why I, the _Grey Prince_, am venturing all across Cyrodiil to speak with the Fighters Guild, street-side bandits, _anybody _willing to fight to the death for glory and honor! If any of you are interested, speak with Owyn in the Arena bloodworks, and who knows, you might even get to fight _me_, the Grey Prince!"

The crowd let out a mighty roar of applause and cheers. Urzul was a tad lost—the Imperial City had an _arena_? What was the point? Did the people really fight to the death like he just said?

The Grey Prince let the applause sink in for a few seconds before finally turning around and leaving. The crowd didn't follow him. Urzul didn't really like the way he carried himself, but she was interested in what he said, surprisingly. Could you really win honor and glory just by fighting in some stupid arena? People honored you for that? What if you died?

To be honest, though, the thought of dying at this time in her life didn't really bother Urzul at all. The base of a fear of death was that people wanted to be remembered for something—but Urzul already knew she didn't have anything to live for. Her father could suffer in silence without her around, and she'd already given up hope of ever seeing her mother again. So why not?

Urzul didn't want to be honored, but she did want something to do. And she knew she could win in the arena—she could become the new champion. The way the Grey Prince carried himself, and the carelessness he ushered into every step he took, Urzul knew that type- that was the type of person who Urzul knew from the playground. Urzul could take him out in seconds. And if _he _made his way all the way to the top, then everybody below him would be like stepping on an ant.

Urzul weighed out the pros and cons. On one hand, she could become the champion of the arena and actually do something with her life. But with all that attention comes the threat of…her history. She knew what would happen if word got out. Would it? Most likely. But if it did, it wouldn't be a better or worse situation than she was in right now. So she kept thinking.

Would she have to use a weapon? Urzul hated using anything other than her bare hands to get the job done. She tried going with that 'use the sword as an extension of you' philosophy, but was never a fan of letting anyone or any_thing_ into her own zone. Were their brawlers in the arena? That would be a deal breaker, but there was no way of knowing without going to see for herself.

Urzul kept debating with herself while gazing out the window. The crowd was gone, it was early in the morning, and it was her day off—so why not? Odd were she wouldn't even get picked anyway, but it was worth a shot. Plus, as much as she loved the Imperial City, she didn't like going inside without having a reason to. This was a good reason.

Urzul shut the bedroom window and went down the creaky staircase of her home. As expected, the first thing she saw while coming down stairs was her hung-over father sitting face down on the table surrounded by 7 pints of ale. It was disgusting, but Urzul had seen it more times than she liked to remember. He wasn't snoring, but his drunken crusty face was oozing droll and snot on the table which was even more disgusting.

"I'm heading out." Urzul said, slipping her shoes on in a hurry.

"Huh—wha—?"

Urzul rolled her eyes and continued getting ready.

"U-Urz… Urzul? Urzul. Wherearyogun—"

"What?"

Urzul's father couldn't keep a sentence together. Urzul thought it was sad and pathetic. "W-Whereare… Where…"

"I'm going to the arena. I'm signing up."

Bogrum scratched his head and rubbed his dry green eyes, "Thearen…rena? Why?"

"I just told you, I'm signing up. Heard they want people."

"Ow, my head…" Bogrum said after stumbling out of his chair and onto his feet. He was still wearing the same thing he had on last night, but somehow Urzul noticed he was missing a sock. He was looking around the empty cottage, probably just figuring out where he was. "D-Did I win?"

"Doubt it." Urzul said plainly. She had just finished getting her shoes on and splashed a bit of water from the well bucket on her face to freshen up. She didn't say goodbye to her father as she headed towards the door.

"Wait—" Bogrum said as quickly as his hung-over lips could muster.

Urzul turned around regrettably. "…What?"

"Your name is gra-_Bogrum_. Don't forget."

"I know." Urzul snapped before shutting the cottage door.

Urzul didn't want to think about her last name. Would they even ask? Why did it matter? Her name would become irrelevant anyway, if she became a champion they'd give her some stupid title like 'Underbiting Empress', or 'Green-skinned Grace'. But this wasn't what she wanting to be thinking about on her way into the Imperial City.

The last time she had a reason to into town, Urzul had to use what little money she had to buy new clothes because the ones she had were getting too many tears. She just bought the same thing, so she didn't get to see anything new. But this time, she was taking the scenic route.

Every step Urzul took sounded important; from the bridge to the city gate it was all finished with white marble. Or, maybe it was brick, but Urzul didn't care. It was better than dirt and mud. Urzul even checked behind her to make sure her work shoes weren't making a messy trail behind her.

Once she was past the gate, she was welcomed by the comforting sound of the Talos Plaza. People were bartering, chatting, joking, laughing, and even yelling. The cloud of conversation blended together like alchemic potion for city life. The entrance had people of all races, social classes, and ages. Children were playing in the gardens, private school students were walking in pairs of four, and an elderly woman as taking a walk around the parameter of the walls. She knew she was out of place, she was still comforted by the city's glow, and that was all that mattered.

Urzul had to ask directions from a city watchman, something she had never done before, and she was surprisingly friendly. Urzul remembered the cranky guards in Bravil that didn't want to engage in any conversation whatsoever, but the Imperial City folk lit up with a smile as soon as Urzul tapped her on the shoulder.

"Good morning, citizen. How can I help?" the guard in her brown and hefty suit of armor smiled through the space in her metal helmet.

Urzul stuttered, "I, um…I'm looking for the arena district?"

"Ah, of course, come to the city to sign up I assume?" she replied politely and pointed ahead, "Follow this road through the Temple District and into the arboretum—the gate to the Arena District is straight through the garden near the statue of Stendarr."

Urzul nodded and thanked the guard awkwardly, then headed in the direction she pointed. Urzul didn't pick up most of it since she wasn't very good at conversation, but she got the general idea.

At this point, Urzul was thinking she would have some last minute thoughts, get cold feet and turn back, but she didn't. She had no interest in what was behind her—this was going to be her future. It wasn't her first choice in profession, but she was eager to take whatever came her way. And if this didn't work out, which it possibly couldn't, Urzul started thinking about moving another city and getting a job blacksmithing. All she knew for sure was she was tired of fishing.

Could she die? Yes. Would she? Urzul didn't think so, but the thought of fighting somebody with a steel claymore or a skull crushing hammer didn't sound very easy. But Urzul assumed the system worked in tiers, so hopefully she'd be able have enough practice fighting amateurs before having to take out a professional.

Urzul also worried about actually having to _kill_ someone. It hadn't dawned on her before, but obviously the Arena was kill-or-be-killed territory. In order to succeed in this profession, she had to win every time. She had to kill people. The thought was haunting, but Urzul hardly a social butterfly so she'd probably never even know their names.

She daydreamed about the future while walking through the imperial paradise. Eventually she came to the arena district, the destination she'd on just heard about this morning. Urzul wasn't very impressed, it was a large circular building but it hardly warranted a giant fuss. The walls seemed as old as Tamriel itself, and besides the guard on patrol, the only thing surrounding it were plants and statues. The statues were nice, but Urzul had seen enough of them in this walk to last her entire life.

Off to the side of the entrance was a small roofed enclosure where a few people in stripped clothes seemed to be brawling hand to hand. One was an Argonian, the other a Reguard. Urzul felt relieved she wasn't the only one brawling their way to the top, but the other side of her was nervous they'd gotten rejected. Either way, she didn't really want to know, so she kept walking.

Urzul walked around the circle trying to find the entrance to the building. She could hear a lot of meaningless chatter, figuring it was just echo from the other districts…but that wasn't the case. After circling the parameter some more, Urzul came face to face with an enormous line of people right where she assumed the entrance was.

Urzul recognized a few faces from outside of her home in Weye—these weren't combatants in the arena, these were the fans of the Grey Prince. Were they _really _going to sign up? None of them looked prepared for combat. Granted Urzul wasn't either, but at least she wasn't wearing an expensive looking purple dress. The fans were still holding their quills and papers for Agronak to sign, it was almost sad.

Urzul was a little angry that all these people were lining up like this. They _couldn't _be serious about this, and Urzul couldn't come back to register until her next day off, which was in two days. Who knows if they would even still be hiring then. Though she was shy by nature, Urzul decided to ask somebody about it.

There were several guards surrounding the extensive line stretching all around the arena garden, so Urzul went up to one of them and asked them if the line was really for registering with the arena.

"Registering too, are you?" The guard responded, "Yes, this is the line. All these fans just want to be able to have one-on-one time with the Grey Prince when he returns. It's sad really. But, I'm afraid you're going to have to go the back of the line."

Urzul nodded and walked away. This was ridiculous. She didn't walk all the way to the Imperial City to be met with a line of fanatics asking to be killed by their idol. What was this, some sick cult? Urzul wasn't going to stand in queue until all hours of the night only to be met with rejection. She wanted to register, and she wanted to register now.

Urzul was able to blend in with the crowd and sneak up the line. The guards may have noticed her, but with the worn out clothes Urzul was wearing, she figured she'd appear to be some sort of gladiator's assistant. Whatever they thought she was, she was going the front of the line. And if anybody of the die-hard fans questioned her, she'd knock their teeth out.

There was a sign passed the door on the left that looked like the arena's promotional poster. There were four combatants—an axe, a mage, a soldier, and a rogue with a bow and arrow with text that simply read: "THE ARENA". It was impressive, but Urzul wasn't going to get excited yet.

Urzul followed the line to a man who was standing around a large quantity of boxes that seemed to be full of armor and weapons. He was a Reguard with short grey hair and a face darkened with sweat and heat. He was talking with the person in front of the line.

"Listen to me, you come here _every season _and sign up—and you are NOT. GETTING IN. Now take your stupid yellow hair and go chase butterflies off a cliff."

"B-B-B-B-But, _Owyn _don't you think my dedication to the Grey Prince _ALONE _makes me worth of acceptance? I know all of his moves! I can mimic him!"

The man was not pleased by this small bosmer fan. "If I ever see your stupid face in these bloodworks again, I'll make sure you get to meet your adored Grey Prince—"

"REALLY?!" The fan said with glee.

"—In a _body bag_. Now GET OUT. NEXT!"

The yellowed hair nuisance shook his head and away muttering some incoherent mumble. The line began to move, but Urzul was quick to put her hand out to Owyn would notice her.

"E-Excuse me, sir?" Urzul tried to say politely, "I want to sign up."

Owyn turned to Urzul with a very unimpressed look of distain, "Oh yeah? Then why aren't you in line?"

Urzul came close to try and talk softly, "Look, I…I don't even like the Grey Prince. I just want to register."

"Oh, you're not a fan of Mr. Wonderful, are you? Well neither am I." Owyn said rudely, "He dragged all of these losers here and now I have to turn them away—one by one. And I'm not allowed to make them all leave, because I have orders from the emperor _himself _to make sure I don't accidently turn away 'prized jewels'". So no, I'm not the biggest fan of Agronak gro-whatshisface, and I don't have time for _you_ unless you get your ass to the BACK OF THE LINE."

Urzul didn't like being talked to like a swine, but she was immune to it. "If you'll just give me a chance and let me—"

"BACK. OF. THE LINE, MAGGOT. Now I'll say it again: _NEXT_."

Urzul turned around and walked away. Owyn was probably the 5th worst person she'd ever met. What right did he have to talk to her like that? Urzul began to regret even coming over here. This entire institution was worthless, and she didn't want anything to do with it.

Urzul was full of rage and anger. She wished she could grip that smug Owyn's neck and throw him up against a wall. For an Orc, Urzul was relatively good at controlling her anger, but she couldn't contain herself from kicking a bucket of water sitting by a vacant wall with all of her lower body strength and splattering the water everywhere.

With one swift thrust, Urzul smashed the wood entirely and all the water splashed onto her working pants. It felt good afterwards, and part of her was hoping somebody noticed.

"HEY!" roared an unhappy croak. Urzul looked around, and right next to the wall was an enclosure of training equipment and battle dummies. Sitting in the corner, on a lonely stood, was a woman who looked older than Akatosh. She made eye contact with Urzul and bellowed, "What in Oblivion was that? Are you mad?"

Urzul's face was swelled up with anger and she couldn't even speak. She was calming down slowly, but the words were not coming to her.

The old woman continued, "What's wrong with you? Didn't get picked for the arena? Well you can't go around kicking buckets just because you didn't get your way!"

Urzul was clenching her fists, still raging internally with anger and fury. "No, that man wouldn't even _see _me. I have to go to the back of the line because of these STUPID—"

Urzul lunged forward to one of the training dummies hanging from a chain and punched it so hard it swung all the back and slammed on the brick wall, leaving a dent that crumbled cement on the floor. "—FANS!"

The old woman looked stunned. Nobody else could see them, but Urzul was furious. She didn't care if this hauled her off to jail, she didn't have anything else to live for anyway.

"My, My…" the old lady uttered, surprisingly. "That's a lot of brute strength you have in those fists, girl. What's your name?"

Urzul shook her hands around to make the pain from her initial adrenaline rush leave her knuckles. "I'm Urzul."

"Last name?"

"…gra-Bogrum."

"Bogrum? Huh… your mother must have been twice the brute as you."

As much as Urzul was enjoying the small talk, every bone in her body was sick and tired being down in the suffocating hell of bloodworks. "I'll be leaving now."

"Not so fast," The woman interjected quickly before Urzul even took a step, "You're not going anywhere until you clean up this mess you've made."

Urzul rolled her eyes and clenched her fist. "It's just water."

"Don't be a brat. I'll help you." After standing up slowly from her chair, the wrinkly woman went behind her stood and grabbed a handful of old beaten rags. Urzul thought the two worked well together. "I'm Ysabel Andronicus, Battle Matron, and personal trainer of the Grand Champion."

"Agronak?" Urzul asked, grabbing a rag.

Ysabel got down on her hands and knees to start drying up the mess Urzul made, while also rolling her eyes. "No, Gaiden Shinji. Who do you think I'm talking about?"

She didn't need to be rude, it was only a question. Urzul started cleaning up the water sliding off the walls while Ysabel handled the floor. "So what do you do while he's gone?"

"Whatever I damn well please." She grunted in-between the large arm strokes she used to wipe up all the water. She was very forceful—if you put a mask over her wrinkly face she could pass as a 30 year old body builder. "And what do _you _do?"

"Do?"

"Your job. If you have one."

"I fish. I live in Weye." Urzul said bluntly. "If you've ever eaten Slaughterfish in the city, I caught it."

"I hate Slaughterfish." Ysabel responded, "Too flimsy and weak. If you want protein, go for a heavy bite of steak. Mammoth is the strongest, works your teeth and strengthens your bones."

Urzul was surprised to meet an Imperial who didn't sit in a castle and do gardening. "I don't eat it either. But that's my job."

"You alone?"

"No, I have a father. Barely."

"I see." Ysabel said. Urzul had already finished, but Ysabel had a dedicated expression on her face that wasn't going to rest until every last drop had been swiped from the blood stained floor. "So humor me—you're a fisher, you don't live in the Imperial City, and here you are signing up for the Arena. Why?"

"Because I can win"

Ysabel paused her movements and looked up at Urzul. A look of joy and laughter was on her face. Urzul was used to that face, it was the face of disbelief. "Really, you think you can win the arena? The single most deadly profession in all of Tamriel—in all of _Nirn_—and you think you can win? You're a _fisher_."

"It matters?" Urzul replied bitterly. "I'm strong. I saw Agronak leaving the city. The way he moved, his mannerism—he's weak. His ego and overconfidence will best him in battle."

Ysabel was, surprisingly, smiling. She got up from off the floor and stretched her back with a very disbelieving look smeared across her freckled face. "What do you fight with, then?"

"Fists."

"Ha! You can't be serious, kid."

Urzul marched straight over to the next available dummy; she was not going to take this. Just as she did before, but this time with a calmer mind, Urzul put all of her energy into a single punch that made a popping sound and send the dummy crashing into the cement, making an even larger dent than the one before. She turned to Ysabel and said, "Yes. I'm serious."

"What the hell is going on over there?!" Yelled Owyn from across the room. Urzul almost forgot he was still catering to all the obsessed fans. Owyn came marching over in a force of rage and stood right between both of them, "Ysabel?"

Ysabel crossed her arms and looked Urzul up and down. She ignored Owyn. "Fine. You're hired."

"WHAT?!" Owyn bellowed out. Urzul was stunned.

"You're a combatant. Welcome to the Arena, Pit Dog."

Owyn shook his head back and forth and stood in front of Ysabel to derive her attention. "So this brute looking Orc comes marching down the bloodworks, without waiting line, _breaks concrete off of our walls and nearly floods the place,_ and now you want to hire her?"

"Shut up, Owyn." Ysabel hissed. "You're not in charge here."

"If you think for a second I'm gonna book matches for this freak—"

"—You're not. I am."

Urzul and Owyn both went wide eyed and said in unison, "_What_?!"

Ysabel walked around Owyn pressing into her face to continue her conversation with Urzul. "I'm handling you personally. Report here tomorrow at 6 a.m. and we're starting training."

Owyn beat up face was swelling with rage, "_Training? Personally? _Have you lost your god damn mind? Are we forgetting about your precious little prince?"

"Agronak won't be back for another month." Ysabel snapped back, "And even then, his solo matches don't start up until mid-season. That's more than enough time to see if this girl is worth my time. If she isn't, she'll be dead. If she is, then you'll be wishing you hadn't sent her to the back of the line."

Urzul tried getting a word in, "Look, I—"

"—You're psycho!" Owyn interrupted, he hadn't even looked Urzul in the eyes. "I'm not having anything to do with this."

"Then don't." Ysabel retorted, "This isn't any of your concern. Now go make that queue go away or I'll have Agronak come back early and make all these zombies start a riot."

Owyn walked away in a fit of frustration. Urzul still wasn't understand exactly was happening—the trainer of the Grey Prince wanted to make Urzul her private pupil. Why? What the hell was going on?

"Right then, you heard me." Ysabel said. "Tomorrow at 6 a.m. Be here. I'll give you your armor and sign your contracts then, if you're still serious."

"I have work tomorrow." Urzul said neutrally. She didn't want to be rude, but it was the truth.

"My training regiments last 6 hours. No more, no less. You'll be home by noon and you can do your fishing then."

As much as Urzul dreaded the thought of getting up early, the tone of Ysabel's voice didn't indicate she had an option. But Urzul was still going to ask, "…Why me?"

Ysabel let out a small chuckling scoff, "I'm bored. And you owe me for breaking those walls. Now go home and rest while you still can, because it'll be the last of it you see in a long time."


	3. Chapter 3: Breakfast

**Chapter 3**: Breakfast

This was absolutely insane. Urzul attempts to sign up for the arena and instead of just being an ordinary fighter, gets chosen as the Grand Champion's trainer's new prodigy? Did Urzul want this? Urzul couldn't decide if this was a blessing in disguise or a recipe for disaster. She would've rather been turned away than get some sort of special treatment.

But then again, she _was _in. Urzul couldn't deny the fact she was now a "pit dog" (whatever that meant). She got what she wanted and _more_. She should be really happy about this—but all that was going through her head was worry. Would this make the other combatants angry? Would they see her as some rich and spoiled brat who got anything she wanted? Sure, it was probably better than how they usually saw her, but attention in general was something Urzul wanted to avoid at all cost. At least being an Orc was something she didn't have control over.

Still, she didn't complain, and went straight home after the event in the bloodworks. The sun was barely setting, but Urzul just wanted to go to sleep after all of this turmoil and recover. Being around people for so long wasn't very easy for her. She knew this was something she would have to get over, having chosen a career in a _very _public forum. The idea scared her, but that was the least of her worries. What would she tell her father?

Urzul's father was the critical type when he wasn't drunk. If he hadn't been hung-over that morning, Urzul likely would have gotten a judgmental lecture before leaving the house that she would have ignored. He would give her 50 reasons why what she's doing is bad and why her fighting would destroy their family. It's not like he would even notice if she went to the arena regularly; he could barely remember what day it was anyway. So why tell him the truth?

When she got home, Bogrum was in his usual spot on the table still, except now he was eating a cooked meal. It was astounding he was able to muster up the strength to do that, but Urzul didn't care. When she walked in the door, Urzul tried to hurry to the top of the stairs before her father started flapping his lips, but she couldn't avoid it.

"Urzul!" Bogrum barked right after the door shut, "Where the hell did you go?"

Urzul rolled her eyes. "I told you when I got up this morning, I went to sign up for the arena."

"What the hell are you thinking? Don't you know what'll happen in if you get killed in that place? The commerce office will have my head, _and _this house. We'll be homeless and you know it. How can you be so selfish?"

It took everything Urzul had not to flip the table and spill his food in his lap, but she held it in. "If it'll make you feel better, I didn't get picked."

"You didn't? Why?" Bogrum asked. Why did he care?

Urzul held up her hands, "Fists. Not a suitable weapon." She lied.

Bogrum let out a disgusting laugh, "Hahaha—you actually tried out to be a Gladiator with your bare _fists_? Oh Urzul, you're just a dimwitted as your old man. Luckily all that arena talk should be out of your head by now, then."

Urzul didn't respond. If only that were the case. "I'm going to my room."

"Just a sec," he said quickly. Urzul rolled her eyes again. "You made sure to tell them your last name was gra-_Bogrum_ right?"

God, not this again. "Of course I did. Why would I tell them my real name? And how many times are you going to ask before you realize I'm not an idiot?"

"Whoa, calm down missy." He responded jovially. "You know, it really is for the best that you didn't get picked. The arena politics are something else."

"…Politics?"

Bogrum stopped licking the excess off his plate and nodded at Urzul, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Yeah, a person like you getting far up in the ranks? That's just asking for a controversy. They'd sniff you out and have us both killed quick than you can sneeze. It's always better to keep low, not draw attention to ourselves."

Urzul went solemn. "…What mom did was really that bad?"

"Urzul, we've been over this. What your mother did doesn't leave our lips for as long as we're both alive. Because the second somebody finds out, you and I are done."

Urzul nodded and went upstairs.

Could that really be true? Would being in the arena attract that kind of attention? There's no way anybody could find out something like that by themselves. Urzul could recall her mother being the whole reason they left Bravil, they wanted to get away from the chaos and live somewhere where people would leave them alone. But so many years have passed and nobody has caught on—and Urzul liked to think people forgot all about her mother.

This was just something Urzul needed to get over. If she focused too much on this, she'd slip and lose everything. If she didn't draw attention to it, nobody would notice or care. It was just an arena, who cared?

It was only the middle of the afternoon, but Urzul was exhausted from a week's worth of work building up in her system, and wanted nothing more than to sleep it off and let it all rest away. Her bones and muscles were aching, and if she had to add _training _to her daily regiment, she'd fall apart if she didn't sleep enough. So, after drawing her bedroom curtains to hide the sun, she collapsed on her bed and drifted to sleep.

That night, Urzul dreamt of fighting in the arena. She was at the bottom of a fishbowl surrounded by a stadium of people—and she was bare naked. Her father was in the stands, glaring down on her with disappointment and sting. The faceless spectators all had their hands crossed, shaking their heads and booing Urzul for being an Orc. She felt humiliated.

Suddenly, the gates opened, and the fight had begun. Urzul ran forward trying to figure out where her opponent was, her skin burning from the boiling sun over the stadium. A war cry came from behind her; she turned around quickly and saw Agronak, the Grey Prince, lunging towards her carrying his steel sword. He wanted her dead.

Urzul dodged his first swing, but she couldn't move her fists. She couldn't fight back. Urzul tried screaming to the referees that it wasn't a fair fight, but nobody was listening to her. Agronak was waving his sword violently at Urzul and she had no way to fight back, only trying to dodge and run away.

The crowd began to boo and wave thumbs down. Urzul saw their looks of distain… and then the revelation hit her. This wasn't a fight for the Championship—this was Urzul's execution.

Urzul was struck by a wayward spell from the audience and her body was frozen with paralysis. Roars from the crowd bellowed, "Murder! Killer! Kill the beast!". The Grey Prince faced Urzul with a disgusting, violent expression, and pointed his sword forward before beginning to charge.

All Urzul wanted to scream for him to stop, but she couldn't do anything. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move, she couldn't even breathe. The last thing she saw was her father looking away in anguish, and Agronak's sword ramming straight into Urzul's stomach.

Urzul jolted awake with a desperate gasp. She had a moment of panic—for a moment she thought her clothes were covered in blood from being stabbed, but it was really a drench of her own sweat. Thank the divines it was only a dream. Urzul's eyes were crusty and groggy even after opening them in panic. The sun still hadn't risen, but peering out her window she could see a glimmer of blue emerging from over the mountains, so she chose to get up. She wasn't going to be able to rest after that, anyway.

There was no way of knowing what time it was, but it truth be told Urzul didn't really care. She didn't have to do much to get ready in the morning, so she was just going to put her hair back up in a knot and then wash her face by the river before heading into the city. She had to meet Ysabel at 6 for training, but odds were she would get there early. Hopefully that meant she could get off early in time for work.

Her father rested quiet in the room adjacent to hers. It was a miracle to ever hear snores from that room, going off Bogrum's drinking record. He probably needed to catch up on all the bad nights passed out on the table. Urzul tip-toed quietly downstairs and was able to leave home without making a peep.

There was just enough sunlight outside for Urzul to see where she was going. It was a very curious of time—it was still night, yet not the _middle _of the night—but definitely not morning. It was dawn and dusk having their daily meeting, before one of them left and the other one hailed.

Urzul walked to the edge of the Niben and splashed some water in her face to wake herself up. She gazed onwards at the mountains, admiring its beauty but reveling in its melancholy. It was the neutral zone—a zone Urzul was more than accustomed to. She lived her whole life in this middle state, never terrible but never what she wanted. It was at this moment Urzul began to realize she might never see the chill of dawn ever again, depending on the events to come, it could either go phenomenally well or devastatingly awful. Was she ready for that?

But, enough thinking, she thought. She wanted to get this over with. She wasn't necessarily looking forward to training, but she wasn't dreading it. When Urzul first went there to sign up, she figured there wouldn't be much work involved and she would just have to fight until she died. Any extra work seemed frivolous and silly. However, since Ysabel was the only one there who even though she'd be good enough, she wasn't in a position to say no.

And so, Urzul took the walk once again into the Imperial City. Nobody roamed the streets that this hour, only the faint whispers of the night watch and the occasional bellowing snore from somebody who left their window open. Through most of the Talos Plaza district, Urzul was completely alone. It was comforting.

That is until she, to her surprise, came across another guard patrolling in the arboretum. And even more coincidentally, it was the same guard from before. When she first saw Urzul, her eyebrows rose up and she said "Well, good morning citiz—oh! It's you, from yesterday. You were looking for the Arena, wasn't it?"

"Uh, yeah." Urzul said awkwardly. She had to stop her movement to talk to her.

"I do hope that went well." The guard said politely, "I've been curious about that place for a while now."

Curious? Her job was to patrol the entire city, why was it curious? "I got picked, somehow. Right now I'm going to training."

The guard gasped, "Training? At this hour? My…I guess they do make the new blood work hard." She smiled through her tight iron helmet, and then continued, "Are you new to the city?"

Urzul shrugged and scratched the back of her head awkwardly, "No…well, yeah, I guess so. I live in Weye."

The guardswoman nodded, "Aah, so you're not too far then. Well, since we're sure to see each other often, my name is Avelina. I used to work and patrol in Chorrol before I was transferred here. So I'm just as new as you!"

Urzul wanted to smile back, but it wasn't really her thing, so she just nodded a few times. Why was this guard being so nice to her? Urzul was used to people turning away in disgust when they saw her face, not smile. She was probably just paid to be nice.

"Well, I won't keep you." Avelina bowed, "Good luck today in training."

"Thanks." Urzul said, before nodding and continuing onto the arena.

The sun had almost completely risen at this point, and Urzul was approaching the arena. It was nice to see the building when it wasn't flooded with a crowd of obsessive teenagers. It was calm. Even though Urzul couldn't imagine the number of lives were lost in this space, it was oddly comforting, like she walking among the ghosts of legends.

Urzul walked through the door to the bloodworks and walked down the stairs, expecting to hear some sort of training already happening, but there was nothing. A strange breeze was blowing through the room, a feeling that gave Urzul goose bumps when the cold air grazed her green skin in this underground dungeon. She tried not to think too much about it.

"Hello?" came a voice from somewhere in the room. Urzul recognized it was Owyn. "Who the hell is-"

Owyn's moldy face sang around the corner and took Urzul by surprise. He was wearing very dirty sleeping clothes that looked like it was covered in old blood stains that turned black. "Oh, it's you," he said, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Training?"

Owyn scoffed, "Training, huh? Figures she'd give you that. Well Ysabel isn't here yet, so just hang around here and—"

"I'm right here!" screeched Ysabel's voice from up the stairs. "—and don't tell my trainees what to do!"

Urzul though Owyn would get angry and fight back like last time, but he just rolled his eyes, "It's too early for this, I'm going back to sleep."

"No you're not!" Ysabel marched down the stairs and threw what seemed like a large sack of equipment on the floor that made a clanking metal sound. "Picked these up last night—they're the swords for next season. The people at Slash N' Smash got them done sooner than expected, and I want them all put away PROPERLY."

Owyn arched his eyebrows angrily, "Why don't you have your new Pitt Dog do it? Men need their rest."

Ysabel clenched her fist and her face went red with rage, "YOU THINK THAT'S A WOMAN'S JOB?!"

"What?! NO! I—God damn, you're such a cranky old hag sometimes."

Ysabel picked up the large bag of swords and threw them at Owyn's feet. This woman was as tough as nails. "And this cranky old hag is your boss. Now organize these swords in the armory by _size_, and if I see one inconsistency I'll write the emperor and have you living on the streets by the end of the week."

Owyn shook his head in frustration, "Whatever.", continuing to mumble curse words to himself while struggling to pick up the large sack of equipment.

Ysabel turned to Urzul without wasting time, "Right then, morning. What are you doing here so early? You weren't needed for another half hour."

Urzul shrugged, "I thought it wouldn't hurt to get an early start."

Ysabel smiled and scratched her nose, "That's a nice thought—in theory. Have you eaten anything?"

That was a weird thing to ask. Urzul wasn't much of an eater, it never really crossed her mind. "No."

"Good." Ysabel replied, "I'll order breakfast then. Wait here"

Ysabel took off out of the bloodworks and left Urzul alone. She was really going to give her breakfast? This was turning too good to be true. But even if this was some huge set up and Urzul was going to end up dead in a back alley, she didn't have much to live for anyway.

Urzul walked around the bloodworks, now empty unlike last time, and just the area in. The name definitely fit; the walls were covered in blood and Urzul could see footprints and handprints stained into the crevasses from people who probably never saw life again. It was amazing this place wasn't haunted. But despite that, there was a certain roominess to the place she couldn't look past. Even though it was the campground for brutal aggression, at least there weren't any corpses.

Ysabel came back quickly and moved at a fast pace down the stairs. "Breakfast is on its way. Now, I need to get you situated with your raiment."

"Raiment?" Urzul asked begrudgingly.

"Well you can't very well go into combat looking like _that_. You're vulnerable in every spot—and you aren't even wearing any damn shoes."

Urzul looked down at what she was wearing, and regrettably, Ysabel was right. Her dirty suspenders and bare feet weren't going to get her anywhere in combat. But what was she going to wear? She didn't want some chunky piece of armor to lug around, if she did then she couldn't dish out punches.

"Come with me." Ysabel said, motioning across the room. Urzul followed her.

They approached a boring storage closet, and when Ysabel opened it, Urzul saw a plethora of blue uniforms piled up carelessly in a huge lump. Ysabel shook her head, "By the nine, Owyn is a slob. Can't even hang up a uniform. No matter—do you want the light or the heav…no, I'll answer that for you. You're getting light."

Ysabel did a quick dig in the closet and pulled out a standard raiment with a dull blue color. Urzul wasn't very impressed. "Put this on." Ysabel said, throwing the uniform over to Urzul.

Urzul didn't say anything and did a quick change, which didn't really bother her. The more she put on the raiment, the more uncomfortable she felt with all the visible cleavage and distasteful sexualization. It was tight, and with every movement Urzul still felt like she was naked. Is this really what she was expected to wear?

"Well?" Ysabel asked hastily.

"Do I have to be so revealing?" Urzul said in distain.

"You're right, I hate the female outfits." Ysabel gruffed, almost like a gag. "You'd look much better in male's. I don't even know why there had to be a difference in the first place. Probably so old Uriel could get a feast for the eyes."

So while Urzul took off what she wearing, Ysabel went back deep into the closet. It didn't take her long to come out with a slightly bigger raiment that had a wider torso and more robust arms. At first glance, Urzul thought it was perfect. "This should work better." Ysabel commented.

After putting it on, Urzul felt one hundred times more comfortable. The chest wasn't as low, and though the raiment was larger, she didn't feel restricted and felt like she could kick ass. Ysabel took a mirror from the corner of the room and showed Urzul exactly how she looked—for the first time in her life, Urzul actually felt confident.

"It's perfect." Urzul said. "So when do I start fighting?"

Before Ysabel could answer, Urzul heard the door to the bloodworks crack open, and a Breton woman with short blonde hair and a blue dress came down the stairs carrying a large tray. She said politely, "Breakfast order for two?"

Quickly, Owyn came snooping around the corner and his dirty face lit up with a smile, "Ah, delicious, thank you thank you—"

"THAT ISN'T FOR YOU!" Ysabel barked from across the room, which made Urzul flinch. "You can order your own food when I see that sword cabinet looking flawless!"

The waitress walked across the room and sat the tray on the table beside the archery dummies. Ysabel paid her and thanked her for her time, and she left. The tray of food looked very nice, nothing Urzul had ever feasted on before. There were two plates of grilled ham, eggs, toast, and a glass of plain milk. This wasn't something she'd ever had before.

"Well then, eat up!" Ysabel demanded before sitting herself down and starting to eat.

Urzul snapped out of her gawking and started to eat her breakfast. It was probably the best meal Urzul had ever had in her life. Everything was cooked right—the eggs weren't too dry, the ham melted in her mouth, and everything was washed down perfected with milk that didn't have a hint of expiration. Urzul couldn't stop stuffing her face, it was like she was eating for the first time after living 10 years in prison.

In between her swallows, Urzul asked, "How did you get this?"

"It's from the Tiber Septim hotel. I tip the Arena district guard to order delivery for me. He's been doing it for years, old Brutus." Ysabel said calmly. "I can tell that _you _like it."

Urzul's plate was already licked clean by the time Ysabel finished that sentence. She let out a fulfilling burp and leaned back in her chair. "I didn't think food could be like that."

Ysabel looked confused, "Don't tell me you've never had _breakfast _before. It's the most important meal of the day. The best too, if you want my opinion."

Urzul shook her head, "No, I usually don't eat until after work. And if I do, it's usually just fruit or occasionally just a cooked piece of fish."

"Hmm." Ysabel said. She set her fork down and crossed her arms together, "So let me get one thing straight. If I'm going to be your trainer, I need to know something from you—why are you here? Why the arena? Is it money? Fame?"

"I just want something to do." Urzul said bluntly. She didn't know what else to say.

"Something to do? You think this is a hobby?" Ysabel hissed, "This is the arena. You do it, or you die. If you think this is some fun hobby to do on the side, think again. Your life is at stake."

Urzul nodded, "That's why I'm doing it. My life is miserable, and my physical strength is the only thing I have. I know I can do it, but if I die, I won't have any regrets. I don't care about the money, I just want to do something meaningful before I'm too old and realize I wasted my life fishing."

Ysabel didn't respond. It probably wasn't the exact answer she was expecting. She had finished her food, and the both of them were just sitting at the table looking each other in the eye. Ysabel seemed to have a mixed reaction of curiosity and confusion.

"Alright." Ysabel said plainly. "If you're serious, then we shouldn't be wasting any more time."

Urzul nodded. She wasn't completely sure how Ysabel believed her, but for now she decided to just stay quiet about it.

Ysabel got up from the table and clapped her hands together, "Right then, time to start stretches. Give me 50 push-ups."

Urzul was taken aback, "Wait, you mean now?"

"That's right, now. Up on your feet."

Urzul wasn't surprised, so she did was Ysabel said. She hadn't done a push-up before, but she'd seen others do it so she figured it didn't have much momentum to it. So without complaining, she got up and onto the floor and got into the position and began lifting herself off the ground as many times as Ysabel said.

Ysabel counted each one, looking over Urzul like a hawk. Urzul didn't feel very strained, in fact it was almost too easy. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and she refused to look anywhere else until she felt like her body had been worked up enough.

Ysabel kept counting, "33…34…35…" but Urzul didn't want to stop. Once she got in the forties, Urzul began to clap her hands in between each thrust off the ground. It was this that actually made Urzul start a steady breath, but she still wasn't breaking a sweat.

"50…51…52…53…" Ysabel continued to count because Urzul didn't stop. This was too easy for her. "57…58…59…"

Urzul made a personal goal in her head to go past 100. It didn't sound hard at all at this point. So she kept going, keeping a steady pace in her movement and breaths so she wouldn't falter and mess it up at the last minute. This kept going until Ysabel reached the triple digits."

"98…99…100…101…Alright, you can stop now, for Mara's sake!"

Urzul broke her push-up and leaped onto her feet. No sweat, no pain. It was a good stretch.

"Pretty impressive." Ysabel said, grabbing Urzul a cup of water. "Usually Agronak is complaining once we get past 35."

Urzul felt like smiling. She knew she was better than that pompous prince. She chugged half the cup of water and poured the rest on her face to get it energized. "What next?"

Ysabel chuckled, a look of mischief smeared on her face, "Don't get too excited, dear. That may have been easy for you, but that was just the stretch. I _will _test your limits. Training with me isn't over until you're begging to stop."

Urzul chuckled back, "Then I guess the fun will be seeing which one of us cracks first."


	4. Chapter 4: Punching Bag

**Chapter 4**: Punching Bag

"Keep at it! Don't stop punching! One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…"

Ysabel was badgering Urzul repeatedly this entire day, supposedly trying to "motivate" her when in all honest Urzul wished she could just shut up. Urzul had yet to feel worked up. She had been punching this bag for 15 minutes, and before that, Ysabel was making her carrying large bags of sand on her back and run around the bloodworks.

Urzul's knuckles were starting to get sore from rapidly socking this hanging bag of sand. She was eager for it to be over, not because it was difficult, but because she was getting very bored and she didn't' want to break the only weapon she could use.

"What's the matter, getting tired?" Ysabel taunted while sitting comfortable on her small wooden stool.

"No, I'm bored." Urzul grunted.

"Bored?! You keep up that cocky attitude and I'll throw you into the pit with Agronak."

Urzul didn't mean to be rude (even though she knew she could knock the Grey Prince's teeth out), "I just don't want ruin my knuckles before my first fight."

Ysabel slapped her knee with burping a laugh, "Your first fight? Listen Sunshine, you're not stepping one foot into that arena until Agronak comes back from his trip around Cyrodiil. You know how long that'll take? Two months at least. Now since you're bored with this, we'll move onto jumping jacks. You can't stop your movement—not for a second."

Urzul went along with the demand and performed a regiment scheduled series of jumping jacks. Urzul wasn't very mobile, so this was the first exercise that had actually motivated her movement. Ysabel ordered her to do a total of 50 before immediately moving onto something else.

Ysabel's training was like the hustle and bustle of the Imperial City. It was fast, it was rapid, and there was no time for rest. She did everything from pushups, pull-ups, jogging in place, to jogging three laps around the perimeter of the Arena dome. They worked outside, inside, and Urzul was only allowed drinks of water between every successful exercise.

Ysabel worked Urzul hard, but she still had yet to feel a good complete workout. Urzul was tough—everything she did, while occasionally broke a sweat, never broke her limits. Years of manual labor on and off a busy river made Urzul hard as nails. The only thing she remotely struggled with was fast motion, but she knew when she actually got down to fighting she'd be a fierce sentinel. No sword would be able to knock her down.

After a round of jumping jacks outside in the boiling sun, Ysabel finally called for a break and the two of them headed inside. They settled in their space by the punching bags and Ysabel made Urzul get a few free hits in on the dummy in-between every sip of water.

It had been a considerable amount of time since Urzul questioned anything, so she decided to bring up her main concern once again. "Can I ask a question?"

Ysabel scoffed as usual, "You can ask but it doesn't mean I have an answer."

Urzul stopped punching, "Why do you need to wait for the Grey Prince to be here, anyway? Does he even fight?"

"I have him do a few rounds with the Minotaurs on his good days. It brings in money. He complains he doesn't get to fight like he used to, but he knows as well as I do that we're running short these days thanks to last season. Plus, nobody has made their way up to a high enough rank to Challenge him since he was first crowned."

"How can the Arena run short?" Urzul grunted, "The first day I came here I saw a registration line stretching all the way through the gardens."

Ysabel let out a hardy laugh, "Ah-Hahaha! That lot. They come around every season they all come around to sign up for a chance to meet Agronak, but the second I hand them a Raiment they run home to their mommies. So now we just give them all a free ticket to one of Agronak's monster clashes and they go on their way."

"So nobody else wants to join?" Urzul said, "This is the _Arena._"

"Look around, see anybody else in here?" Urzul took a look around the bug infested bloodworks—there was nobody else in sight. Urzul hadn't really noticed it before, given how early she'd gotten up, but it was close to noon and the place will still abandoned. "_That_, big fists, is why we need Agronak—"

"—big fists?"

"—don't interrupt! –That is why we need Agronak to go around to all the fighter's guilds and see who wants to sign up here. He pep talks them, petitions the old 'money and glory' speech and hopefully we get a few lucky pit dogs who want a better paying job. If we don't, we got no damn team."

Urzul sat down on the nearest stood nonchalantly, "And why's that?"

Ysabel scoffed a laugh, "You can punch but apparently you can't listen. Last season, the blue team got their ass' beat. Now mind you, I'm the battle matron, and I couldn't give a mudcrab's tit which team wins, but you're my pit dog now and you're fighting on the Blue Team because we don't' have enough room on yellow."

Urzul shook her head side to side in disbelief, "You can't seriously be telling me that I'm going to be fighting for another two months. And you really think I need to be _trained _during that time? Can't you tell by now that I don't need it?"

Ysabel looked Urzul straight in the eye with a glare that could freeze an atronach. Urzul gulped. "You wanna guess what the first weakness of an arena combatant is?"

"I don't know."

"No, I want you to _guess_."

Urzul was starting to get annoyed, but she went along with it anyway. "I don't know…uh…is it—"

"—COCKINESS." Ysabel barked. "The second you're ONE HUNDRED PERCENT sure you're walking out of that arena alive is the moment your corpse gets hauled off to Orsinium in a body bag. Is that what you want?"

Urzul knew arguing with Ysabel wasn't going to anywhere, but at this point she was just sick off all the excuses. "I know you don't believe me, but I _can_ win. I _will _win. There no other option for me."

Ysabel stood up angrily. There were a few seconds of pause where Urzul thought Ysabel would sock her in the jaw. "Alright big fists, you think you can win? You don't want my training? Then let's get you in a fight."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me. On your feet!" Ysabel demanded, before walking out of the bloodworks.

Urzul thought she was kidding at first, but the further she walked away the more Urzul's stomach began to fall. "Where are you going?" she exclaimed.

Ysabel didn't turn her head and kept walking, "Head up the ramp and out the door. I'll have you an opponent in 10 minutes. We'll see just how ready you actually are."

This all had to be some kind of joke. She was ready, but she wasn't _this _ready. But Ysabel wasn't turning around.

"OWYN!" Ysabel shouted as she exited the door, "GIVE HER THE RUN DOWN!"

There was a considerable wait before Owyn came crawling out of behind the corner scratching his head and shaking his head. He was now dressed in his standard suit of armor, which Urzul didn't like one bit. This was real.

Owyn came closer to Urzul, but he wasn't angry like he usually was. He was calm. "Boy, I don't know what you did, kid, but you start praying your last prayers."

This couldn't be happening, what the hell was going on? Ysabel was going to have her killed? By who?

"I haven't seen her that adamant in a long time." Owyn sighed, scratching his nose. "Well, as the Blademaster, it's my job to tell you the rules of the arena before your first fight, so listen up—"

"—First fight? So she wasn't kidding?" Urzul asked.

Owyn began to laugh out loud. "Oh-hohoho, kid, you really don't know who you're dealing with, do you? Ysabel isn't someone to fool around with. You cross her, and she'll get your ass killed."

Apparently this was the real deal. Who was Urzul going to have to fight?

Owyn carried on, "Anyway, the rules are simple. You have your raiment on, and that's all you can wear besides headgear of your choice. Second rule, no looting your opponent's corpse after killing them. It's disrespectful."

That idea made Urzul want to barf. Who would want to take things off of a dead body after killing them?

"Third and final rule," Owyn continued, "If you survive, do yourself a favor and never get on Ysabel's bad side ever again."

The most concerning part of all of this was that Owyn wasn't angry or raving about her or Ysabel at all. He was calm, like he was talking to a person about to walk into their own death. This wasn't good. Owyn directed Urzul to the ramp that Ysabel mentioned and then left her there, telling her to walk out the door when she was prepared.

A load of thoughts were rushing through Urzul's head. Was Ysabel joking? Was this going to be some sort of warning? This all felt too real. Urzul didn't think being an arena combatant would come with this much pressure. Up until this point, the kill or be killed mentality didn't faze her at all—but now it all hitting her at once. She could _die_.

Urzul gulped and walked through the bloodied wooden door. There were handprints all over it, like somebody had struggled to get through it during their last moments alive. Beyond the door was another ominous ramp, but then…Urzul saw it.

The Arena—it was like a fish bowl with seats. While the fighting space itself was small, lines and lines of empty seats circled the stadium. Urzul imagined the place infested with spectators waiting for blood to be sprayed on the dirt. It was disgusting, but this is what Urzul decided. There was definitely no going back. However, at least nobody was there to watch today.

Urzul walked into the empty arena and heard a voice cry out from up above, behind her. She turned around and looked up to see Ysabel leaned over the balcony, her head shaking. "Hello, Urzul."

Urzul took this as a last chance to reason with her, "Look, I didn't mean to offend you or anything, all I wanted was to—"

"You want a fight." Ysabel interjected. "You want a fight—and you're going to get one. Right now."

"Who?"

"Turn around."

Urzul twisted her neck and saw a very cocky brown skinned Wood Elf in a plate of bronze and yellow armor holding a long sword and shield. A yellow Dwarven smithed helmet covered his hair and cheeks. Is this who Urzul was going to fight?

The Bosmer nodded his head, "Hello, _Orc_."

Urzul turned back around to Ysabel. "You want me to fight _him_?"

"This is one of the Yellow Team's Gladiators. Very high ranked. But, you're so sure you can take anybody down, so you I'm going to let you prove it to me."

Urzul staggered her words, "But—"

"ALRIGHT!" Ysabel bellowed from the balcony without effort, "THIS IS A PRACTICE FIGHT—_TO THE DEATH_. The winner advances in rank!"

Urzul turned to face the Bosmer again. He was readying for battle. "I get to become a Hero after this, and then I'll be just a few short kills away from becoming the Grand Champion. Good luck taking me out, Pit Dog."

Urzul tried to keep her cool and reluctantly raised her fists. This was it. She had no idea how she would take this guy with his giant sword—but she was going to try.

Ysabel shouted—"FIIIGGHT!"

The bosmer wasted no time, and raced towards Urzul in a fit of rage. Urzul was quick to dodge, ducking down to await his sword's incoming swing. The first stages of the fight were Urzul trying her hardest to maneuver around the Gladiator's attacks. It was working, but there was no strategy.

"Die, you filthy Orc!"

Great, he was another racist. That was always nice to hear. Urzul realized quickly that she needed to change her strategy—if this was what Arena combat was like, she couldn't dodge. Her only hope was so get in a hit.

After ducking a hit, Urzul thrusted at the Bosmer's knees with a strong kick that made him lose his balance. She followed it by moving in to punch him in the jaw, but she forgot about his shield, and her fists were met with a metal clang with stung slightly upon contact.

"You can't be serious!" The Gladiator taunted, "What business does a hand-to-hand Orc have in the arena? You're an insult to tradition!"

Urzul tried having at this Gladiator one more time, punching at him franticly hoping to get a hit in and get him struggling again, but she couldn't touch him. With every movement he was either blocking or motioning for another swing that Urzul had to dodge. What was she thinking? Fists couldn't do anything in the arena. She was helpless.

Urzul had flashbacks of her dream—it was the same. She couldn't lay a hand on the Gladiator, it was the end of the line. She was going to die in this arena, her father would mourn for her death, lose his house, and that would be it. What was she thinking?

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the Bosmer bashed in Urzul's stomach with his iron shield and sent Urzul flying so far she plummeted against the Arena walls, trapped into a corner. This was it.

Urzul could see Ysabel from the opposite balcony watching the match closely. All those exception she made for her—they were going to be wasted. Urzul was a naive fool thinking she could make it in this arena. Ysabel would never take another trainee again.

Her opponent hunched over her like a Hawke waiting for its prey. Urzul could barely see—but she could clearly make out his taunting words. "I've been waiting for a chance like this for a long time. It's time to avenge my brother's death, you filthy barbarian."

Urzul struggled to move, her speech was quieted, "—What?"

"6 years ago my brother was killed by Orc woman—_just—like—you."_

No…it couldn't be. This gladiator couldn't possibly be referring to…

_ "_It's almost uncanny." The Bosmer said. "Her wanted poster still haunts my brain to his day. She looks a lot like you. You're going to die as feeble and unarmed as he was! This is for _him!"_

"NO!"

The Bosmer swung his sword upwards, but Urzul lunged forward at the last moment and forced all of the energy she had into a powerful punch directly at the Gladiator's shield and he fell backwards into the Arena sand. His weapons threw out of his hand and Urzul heard a hard crack when his body smashed onto the ground. Urzul sprang from an adrenaline rush and reached his iron long sword, throwing it halfway across the stadium. His shield, at the other side of the arena, had a large imprinted dent right in the center. Urzul stood up on both her feet—now _he _was the helpless one.

Urzul ran up to her opponent, a fit of rage boiling in her bloodstream. She saw the look of fear in his eyes—he was struggling to move from the momentum of the push. Urzul now had the upper hand.

The feeble gladiator was now panicking, "Y-You! The posters…but…she said she was caught—"

"SHE WAS!"

"Then you're her—"

Urzul didn't want to hear any more. Urzul could no longer think clearly, the rage consumed her and Urzul ran headfirst into an aggressive, murderous rage. She picked up the Gladiator off the ground and became to smash his head in, clenching her fists so tight that every punch felt like she was hitting water.

Eventually, Ysabel made the call. "URZUL IS THE WINNER."

Urzul released the Bosmer from her grip. Her knuckles were covered in blood—and he was dead.

Urzul couldn't think, she couldn't piece together what just happened. All she could do was clench her hands together and let out a blood curdling scream to vent all the rage burning inside her. Why was she so angry? She couldn't remember why she was even there.

That Bosmer—Urzul began to remember what he said to her. He knew about _her_. She was going to take revenge because of something _she _did…

Owyn, Ysabel, and two other people wearing yellow team raiments came running out into the Arena. Ysabel was the only one to approach Urzul, the rest just came to remove the Bosmer's body. Urzul still couldn't think straight.

Ysabel came to Urzul and put her hand on Urzul's back, "What the bloody hell was that?! You screamed so loud it sounded like he'd stabbed you in the loins!"

Urzul paced around the stadium, heading off to the door of the bloodworks. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what was going on. She just killed somebody—but it didn't feel like it should. She felt something else, something aggressive, something angry.

"Hey, Hey, Hey!" Ysabel cried out, following Urzul on her spontaneous flee from the stadium. "What's the matter with you?! Speak, for God's sake!"

Urzul came inside the bloodworks were nobody else was. She slammed her fist hard against the wall and panted heavily, trying to get over this overwhelming feeling of rage. Urzul wasn't an angry person. This wasn't like her.

Ysabel came around to Urzul's side, "You never struck me as the kind of person who'd be upset over killing somebody. You know what you signed up for."

Urzul shook her head franticly, "It isn't that."

"Look if this is about the surprise fight—I knew you were going to _win_, I wouldn't have sent you in there if I didn't think—"

"That isn't it! It isn't about any of it!"

"Well then what in Oblivion is the matter with you?!"

Inescapable tears of fury poured out of Urzul's eyes. She was trying her hardest to fight them off but she couldn't do anything. "He _knew her_. She _killed his brother_."

"Knew who?!" Ysabel said with a strong tone of frustration.

"My mother!"

Ysabel still hadn't cached on. "What do you mean your _mother_? Your mother killed hi—"

Ysabel went silent. Urzul had quickly stopped herself from crying and was now shaking from shock and fear. The way Ysabel had paused—she knew. She had to know.

"That explains it." Ysabel said quietly. "Your last name… gra-_Bogrum_… it's your father's name, isn't it? Your mother—your mother's name…"

Urzul looked dead ahead and muttered her words with a chilling fear. "Gashnakh gra-Orbul— Cyrodiil's most infamous serial killer. She was my mother."


End file.
